


Blasphemy

by Pen99



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Castiel's death, Graced Dean, Graceless Castiel, M/M, god is kind of a jerk, like really blasphemous, pretty much the story of Castiel's death, s10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-05
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-05 13:02:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3121115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pen99/pseuds/Pen99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Winchester. Naomi. Metatron. Each time it seemed as if your story was finished, I found a way to drag you back in."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blasphemy

Sam balled his fists into the King of Hell’s lapel.

“You said you had it.” Sam bared his teeth. “I told Dean you were going to be there. Where is it Crowley?”

The shorter man shifted angrily, fingers of red seeping up to his cheeks.

“I’m not bloody well telling you anything until you take your hooves off me.”

Sam sneered and stretched his fingers across the other man’s neck.

“Quit stalling. The Grace. Do you have it or not?”

“No.” Crowley grumbled. “But I know how to get it, moose. If Castiel could just—”

A tortured smirk found its way to Sam’s lips.

“Not this time.” Sam muttered.

With a jerk, Ruby’s knife was imbedded in Crowley’s neck.

“You’ve outlived your worth. Many times over.”  
Sam pushed the smoking meat suit to the ground, but no sense of victory followed. Crowley was dead. And in a few minutes, Castiel would be too.  
\- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
She showed up for Castiel’s last moments.

With each click of her heels, the look in Cas’ eyes became more distant.

“Father?”

“Sometimes,” The woman answered thoughtfully. Another clicked followed. “when I’m feeling wrathful.”

Her eyes swept the room. They landed on Dean.

“Or when I’m interesting in collecting what I am owed.”

The woman sighed rather dramatically.

“Other times, I’m not so lucky. Kind. Merciful. Mighty. They have called me them all. That me is rather distant. Working from the sidelines. I prefer a much more direct approach.”

To prove her point, she sent Dean to the floor. His chest expanded with each breath, but the oxygen refused to be used. He continued to breathe normally, choking as he did so.

Castiel did not flinch as Dean completed his penance. Soon enough, Dean was back on his feet.

“So when Mr. New God is away, Old Testament comes to play. Is that it?” Dean barked.

She gave Dean a polite smile.

“Something like that. Although,” She turned back to Castiel. “It seems he’s been a playing with you for quite so time. Even I don’t bring angels back from destruction. I’m curious how he did it.”

“As am I.” Castiel admitted.

“And look how you repaid him.”

The amusement drained from her eyes.

“We gave you many chances to choose us, Castiel.” She growled. “You were the most needed angel in heaven. Even Lucifer and Michael were not called upon with the same frequency.

Winchester. Naomi. Metatron. Each time it seemed as if your story was finished, we found a way to drag you back in. Did you never stop to wonder why it always had to be you? Do you really hold yourself in such regard?”

Castiel could not stray from his father’s gaze. His hands twitched upward, oddly cupping his neck.

“Why would you allow me to fail so many times?” Castiel asked.

“Because I am god!” She whaled in disgust. “I do not fail. My angels are not products of failure! But you—Castiel! You were determined to become my one and only mistake. Could you not have just followed the Devine Path? I’ve given you so many chances to return. To prove my perfection.

But each time you came close, HE got in the way. ”

Dean was flung against the wall.

“Watch it, bitch!” Dean growled, failing to return to his feet.

“Thwarted by a tiny,”

Dean returned to the ground in a cry of pain.

“Unconceivable.” Gasp. “Pathetic.” Gasp. “Human.”

“Stop.” Dean whined. “Please, stop.”

Castiel took a step between Dean and his father, still clutching his throat.

“Enough.” Cas spat. “You are angry with me, not this man. Only one of us has failed. Please allow it to be me. Please allow it to be us.”  
She glared at Castiel.

“I can’t, Castiel. He won’t be allowed to distract you again. Do what you know is right for your family, not these humans.”

“My family is these humans.”

Castiel removed his hand from his neck. The room shone white to reveal the last bit of stolen grace nestled in his palm.

“What kind of angel are you? No angel of the lord would—”

Castiel grunted.

“I am no angel of the lord. I am an angel of man—and the Winchesters. I am an angel of free will.”

His palm closed around the Grace.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
“Cas!” Dean choked. “Castiel, you son of a bitch! Where are you?”

Dean was caught up in a wave of pain. He stumbled around blindly, foot catching on Castiel. Cas’ form was limp, but he was breathing.

Dean tried to lift him. Another spike of pain sent Castiel back to the ground.

Finding support against the wall, Dean sank to the ground. He pulled Cas between his legs, and wrapped his arms around Cas’ chest. Dean tried to leverage himself against the wall and lift Cas, but the pain took him again.

“Damn. Hold on you lucky bastard. We’re not done yet. ”

Castiel looked pretty done.

Dean abandoned his attempts at lifting the angel. Dean no longer had the strength the hold his own head. It fell back against the wall.

To Dean’s surprise, shaking fingers reached up to clutch Dean’s jaw. A thumb snaked over his chin and lightly pulled at his bottom lip.

Looking down, Dean met Cas’ eyes. They were open.

Cas did not say anything as he rested his face against Dean’s left check. A moment of hysteria pasted as Dean realized what Cas was doing.

Cas’ lips were brushing against the corner of Dean’s mouth. It was almost a kiss, but Cas did not appear to have the strength to cover Dean’s lips with his own.

Then Dean noticed it.

A silver thread of grace was floating from his lips. It fell to Cas’ and the room once again flashed white.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
It was over.

Dean held the smoking corpse in his arms. He cried out in pain. His shoulders and biceps screamed from the burns. Underneath the tasseled fabric, Dean’s skin was branded black.

Tattooed on his flesh was the outline Castiel’s wings.

\- - - - - - - - - - - - -  
Sam came to check up on him every hour or so. The bandages needed to be changed. Dean barely spoke a word. It only took a day for Sam to break down.

“Dean, I need you to talk to me. I don’t care what you say. Hell, tell me your fine—if that’s what it takes. Just say something. ”

Sam almost leapt when Dean answered.

“I had it the whole time.”

Sam froze.

“What?”

“Cas’ grace. I had some. He took it back.”

“Dean, that’s impossible.”

“No, Sam. I saw it. It was like I was storing it for him— he coaxed it out.” Dean muttered. “I never even knew it was there.”

“Only angels can have grace, Dean. Cas must have had some left over in his vessel. Like a final kick after the replacement wore out.”

“Sam, I need you to trust me. I saw it leave. It was in me.”

Sam was quiet for a long while.

“He kissed me.”

That roused Sam’s attention.

“When he was taking back his grace. It wasn’t like a real kiss. He could barley lift his head.”

Silence.

“Do you think he knew it was there? He might have thought it would save him. The desperation of a dying man and all that.” Dean grew quiet. “Or do you think he—”

Dean couldn’t finish.

“Does it matter?” Sam asked. “To you I mean.”

Dean was quiet for a long time.

“No. He’s dead. It doesn’t make a damn difference either way.”

“If he wasn’t?”

“He is. So it doesn’t.”

Sam almost whispers.

“I think he did.”

It isn’t until later when Dean admits–

“Me too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please drop a comment if you are so inclined. Thanks for reading.


End file.
